In it for you, and only for you
by holyleonardodicaprio
Summary: Modern AU in which Mary Stuart is engaged to Francis, son of wealthy French business Tycoon Henry Valois. Caught in a world of turmoil and political scandal, Mary finds herself torn between doing the best for her family, and Sebastian, a free-spirited art student and half-brother of her fiancé.
1. Prologue

_Synopsis:_ _Modern AU in which Mary Stuart is engaged to Francis, son of wealthy French business Tycoon Henry Valois. Caught in a world of turmoil and political scandal, Mary finds herself torn between doing the best for her family, and Sebastian, a free-spirited art student and half-brother of her fiancé._

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing acsociated with CW's Reign or Mary Queen of Scots

**Prologue**

Mary Stuart had always been used to change. Why, then, did she feel so full of conflictions as she made her way through Glasgow airport. No matter how much she tried to calm herself, she couldn't seem to quell the increasing feeling of nausea that had plagued her since she left her home that morning.

_Mary, this is normal. Anyone would be nervous, _she muttered to herself as she glanced half-heartedly up at the departures board.

11:52, Gate 5b.

She had exactly two hours until her plane left. Mary was usually the first everywhere, but today she whole-heartedly wished she'd stayed wrapped up in bed at least a little later. Spending two hours with her eyes glued to the board, watching endless numbers come and go, would likely drive her crazy.

Mary tapped her fingers anxiously against the hard table, wishing that she were a piece of furniture if it meant she didn't have to make decisions that would change her life forever.

_No, you want this,_ she told herself for what felt like the sixty fifth time that morning. It had been her choice, and hers only, to accept Francis' proposal. She knew she ought to be excited, but the prospect of leaving her home and everything she knew to live with her fiancé in an entirely new country was more than a little overwhelming.

Not to mention the politics, there had been enough of that with her father growing up. Would Francis even have time to spend with her, with all his campaigning? She envisioned herself alone in her new home for weeks on end, with no one to talk to. Greer, Aylee, Lola and Kenna, her dearest friends since childhood, would now be more than 300 miles away. Shaking her head, Mary tried to count the passersby to distract herself from the thoughts that plagued her.

_1 man wearing a green shirt and matching socks_

_A young woman and her two children, 3 suitcases_

_4 men dressed for a business conference, complete with briefcases and laptops_

_1 couple holding hands and smiling_

Mary felt herself comforted somehow by watching people go about their lives. Focusing on others allowed her to forget her own troubles, something she'd lately been finding difficult.

* * *

...

Two hours later – by which time Mary's nerves had increased exponentially - her flight had reached the top of the little black screen. _Gate Open_, flashed in small orange letters, and Mary reluctantly forced herself from the comfy chair she had occupied. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the small boarding card she'd received from the check-in desk three hours earlier.

_-Flight 02983b to Paris CDG International Airport._

It was a one way ticket. Whatever happened, Mary knew there was no going back to Scotland now.

* * *

_**Authors Note:** Okay, so I hope this idea isn't too bizarre. I love Reign and Mary x Bash (Sorry Francis, I still love you too) and the idea of a modern day AU intrigued me. Let me know what you think, any advice will be whole-heartedly accepted. I hope Mary wasn't too OOC, despite the fact she's living in 2014. Also, please not that Mary, Bash and Francis will all be slightly older in this fic than in the show. I'd imagine Mary and Bash to be in their mid-20s, whilst Francis is closer to 30._


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **_Thank you so much to the positive response I received to the prologue, I really appreciate it! You guys are great_

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with Mary Queen of Scots or CW's Reign. I don't even own Torrance Coombs *looks away sadly into the distance*

* * *

**Chapter 1- An Unexpected Arrival**

Francis Valois rarely had time for romance. His packed schedule frequently kept him busy from the very start to the end of the day. Running for mayor, it turned out, took far more effort than he had first anticipated: scheduled appointments with various members of the city council; public appearances at various schools and community halls; voicing general support for the people, all of it was leaving him exhausted to say the least. Was it even worth it? The latest poles had put his opponent's approval rating at 78%, a full 13% above his own. What did the people of Paris want with a young mayor anyway? Francis was drained. Most days, it was all he could do to come home and head straight for the comfort of his bed; if he was honest with himself, he would admit to skipping an evening meal 6 out of 7 nights a week.

Checking his reflection in the mirror that was fixed to the wall directly opposite his desk, Francis realized how exhausted he looked (perhaps almost as exhausted as he felt). His dirty blonde hair cascaded across his forehead messily, and dark circles made his eyes appear almost ghostly. Agitatedly, he ran a hand through his hair, though mane would be a better word to describe it. No matter how frequently he tried to tame it, it stubbornly refused to stay the way he wanted it to.

Irritated by his current predicament, Francis twirled absent-mindedly on his swivel chair. If everything was this stressful now, how on earth was he supposed to cope if he was elected mayor? _God knows,_ he muttered to himself. Propping his feet up, he surveyed the framed photos he'd placed on his desk several months earlier. The first was of him, a picture his father, Henry, had taken on a trip to the Alps. The second was of his extended family; his father, his mother, Bash, and two cousins he'd somehow forgotten the names of. Francis told himself this was perfectly acceptable when your family was as large and complicated as his.

As his eyes hovered over his younger brother's face, however, he felt a strange twinge of regret. More often than not now he found himself frequently wishing he could somehow switch places with Bash. Bash, who had the freedom to do as he pleased, who could meet who he liked and pursue whichever career he felt suited him best. They shared a father and a last name, and little else.

"You will be grateful for what you have only when it is taken away from you" his father had once told him. Perhaps he was right, but for now Francis only wished that he were an entirely different person born to an entirely different family.

"Some normalcy would be perfect" he muttered aloud to himself.

"Francis, the walls are far from invisible" A deeper, almost threatening voice retorted.

Swiveling round, Francis was hardly surprised to see his father standing in the doorway. As usual, he was ostentatiously dressed in a dark suit and crimson red tie. Francis came from a long line of what some might describe as 'royalty', at least within the business world. His father, Henry, had taken over Valois enterprises as the tender age of 17, a duty Francis knew would one day become his own. Whilst other investors shied away from risks, Henry flocked to them like a moth a flame; he was keen to spend all he could, and even keener to take pleasure in doing so. It was no secret that Henry spent his spare time with various 'lady friends', as Francis' mother, Catherine, described them, many of whom were younger than his own sons. Nothing ever stayed a secret in Paris, even the walls had ears and Francis knew this only too well.

"I was merely commenting on the lack of time I've had to think" He retorted, straightening his suit jacket and tie whilst offering his father a questioning look.

"And?" Henry countered, "You think men become like us by lazing around all day, eating and watching television?" At Francis' lack of response, he continued. "No, my son, men become like us because they work for it."

_Men like us are wealthy because we were born into it,_ Francis thought bitterly, but felt it was best to say nothing at all.

Ignoring his son's indifferent expression, Henry paced to the full window that gave Francis a stunning view of the historic city. Had he been in a better mood, he  
might have appreciated the way the sun was reflected in this morning's rain puddles. Instead he was in a foul mood, so he stubbornly stared at his desk, as though the world's most interesting conversation was being held somewhere within the wood.

"I hope you haven't forgotten you're scheduled to have lunch at one. I believe it's with a Madame Claude, of the city health department. Her favorite cuisine is seafood, so you can take the car took the place we own on 14th street. I'll have Meursault drive you."

At Henry's words, Francis had to use all his willpower to resist the urge to slam his head against the table.

"And should I offer my soul to you now, or before I take her for dinner?" He retorted.

Henry awkwardly approached his elder son, unsure of how best to show the mild affection he held for him. He resorted to a light tap on the shoulder.

"Son, this will all be worth it in the end."

"Okay"

"And, before I forget, Mary Stuart is arriving this evening."

Francis abruptly looked up. Taking potential clients to dinner was one thing, but Mary's arrival was an entirely different story. The thought of spending time with her made the prospect of squid and calamari with Mme Claude seem far less frightful. Although he would never have admitted to it, Francis could feel the beginnings of a smile creeping into his strained face.

"She is?" Lost in his train of thought, he'd almost forgotten his father's presence in the room, "Truly? When?"

"Your mother reluctantly informed me Mary's plane is due in this afternoon at two pm. She ought to be at the house by four, meaning you ought to show up at six. We'll be having dinner, Bash and Diane shall be there." Henry replied, at least somewhat pleased at his son's slight change in mood. It was rare that Francis smiled anymore, much less due to news his father had brought.

Francis glanced at the third photo on his desk. It had been taken just over three years ago, when he had visited Mary in Scotland for the summer after finishing University. He realized he was a far cry from the young man in that photo, who had cheerful eyes and a wide smile. Perhaps, he thought, the coming of Mary would alter his current predicament considerably. After all she would not only provide some light relief after a long day of work, but both Francis and his father knew that Mary could only serve as an advantage politically.

* * *

**Author's Note:**_I wasn't planning to write multiple POVs, but somehow it worked out that way! Anyway, I felt like I needed to at least establish a little more background information on Francis' life in the present day. I hope he wasn't too OOC, I realize he's being a moody grump right now, but I promise he won't always be like this. I also apologize for the lack of Mary and Bash, I promise they'll have a presence next chapter. Thank you again for reading, I appreciate it so much!_


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **_Thank you again for the wonderful reviews and to those who follow/favorite the story, I appreciate it so much. _

Disclaimer: I own nothing assosiated with CW's Reign or Mary Queen of Scots

* * *

**Chapter 2 - First Meetings**

Lying on his back, staring absent-mindedly at his ceiling was Sebastian de Poitiers. God, he hated saying his full name, he sounded like a royal prat. Bash, he had always found, suited him much better. He had been bent over his desk all day, trying desperately to finish his essay on 18th century neoclassical French art. Eight hours, five cups of coffee, and three sandwiches later, he had managed a grand total of 121 words. Terrible. He wished- not for the first time in his life- that he had a time machine, he much preferred the thought of actually seeing art being created than reading about it in some tedious textbook. Still, school was school and he had willingly signed up for this.

Staring at the almost entirely blank word document again, Bash felt himself giving in. He was about to close his laptop and retire to the comfort of his bed when a small reminder popped up on the screen,

_3:30pm, dinner with Dad and Francis_. _Don't be late. Again…_

_Fuck_, Bash groaned aloud.

He was going to be late, again.

* * *

The engine of his truck made a disgruntled groan as Bash pushed his foot down on the accelerator. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, his heart sank a little. Yes, he was almost definitely late. He sped up, making a left turn, and another, and another. The traffic was light, but his truck was insisting on being uncooperative- it seemed that anything over 30mph was an unreasonable expectation. He had meant to get her fixed last weekend at that little garage two or three blocks away from his street. But money was increasingly becoming a problem; being an art student and living in a tiny, shitty apartment that charged way too much rent left him with little to spend on anything. Unfortunately, in situations such as these, food and school supplies had to take first priority, meaning his grumpy old truck was almost definitely here to stay.

As the traffic light turned red, Bash pulled the truck to a stop and picked impatiently at the tiny flecks of white paint that were dotted across his palms. He'd forgotten to clean himself up _again._ Although, if he thought twice about it, the image of his step mother Catherine's anguished face at his scruffy appearance made forgetting all that much better. It seemed that his father always picked the most inconvenient times in Bash's life to demand his presence. How many projects did he have due on Monday? Not to mention that dreaded essay. He didn't want to think about it. Bash ran his hands through his messy hair, trying to remember whether or not he'd capped the lids on all his tubes of paint. What colors had he even been using anyway? He made a mental note to check in on his local art supplies shop on the way home, he seemed to be running low on almost everything, _again. _

Making a final right turn, Bash was glad to be on the highway and away from the busy hustle and bustle of the city. He loved Paris, but the road home- if he was going to call it home- always gave him the much-appreciated opportunity to breathe in some fresh air again. He rolled down the window as his truck reluctantly chugged along. As he drove further and further from the center of the metropolis, it seemed as though the sizes of the surrounding homes increased exponentially. By the time he reached his father's home, there was little but endless countryside. As he made the first exit for Versailles, Bash felt the familiar uneasy feeling that plagued him each time he was forced to spend time with his family. It wasn't that he disliked his father, or Francis, even in the slightest- although Catherine was an entirely different matter- but Bash had grown accustomed to his quiet life and apartment. He felt more comfort from his own presence, and the time he could spend on his artwork, than surrounded by hundreds of strangers at any political conferences Francis and Henry attended.

Bash made a left turn, beginning the familiar drive down the street that led to his father's house. He wasn't sure if house was really the right word, mansion seemed to suit it better. _Mansion is definitely the right word_, he thought to himself as he looked up at the rows of houses that mirrored each other on either side of the road. His modest apartment could probably fit in each one of the family homes at least three times.

His truck roared in frustration as Bash turned up the winding, pebbled path leading to Henry's estate. It was always immaculate, not even a single rose bush was out-of-place. Bash wondered how much space four people actually needed in a house, it seemed almost ridiculous. And hadn't Henry said something about extending the back? It was already like a palace. Approaching the house, he parked his truck and reluctantly switched off the engine. Leaning back against the seat, Bash closed his eyes and willed himself to go inside.

* * *

"Where is he? He ought to be here by now. They both should be" Bash heard his father ask impatiently from the next room.

"How am I supposed to know? I've been right here with you, unfortunately" His step mother retorted.

He rolled his eyes, burying his head in exasperatedly in his hands. Speaking of Francis, where was his half-brother? Bash had somehow managed to shave, clean, change his clothes and make himself look considerably presentable in under fifteen minute. Now he'd been sitting uncomfortably on the sofa for the past half an hour, waiting for the arrival of his brother and his fiancée. If he was honest, he was beginning to wonder whether taking an evening away from his school assignments had been worth it.

"- you really didn't have to invite _him_, Henry" Catherine's voice hissed from the next room. Bash wondered if she didn't realize the walls were thin enough to hear through or if it was intentional (likely the latter)

"_he_ is my son too, Catherine"

Bash almost alerted them of his presence, if only to prevent their argument from escalating, but thought the better of it. It was bad enough when Francis was there, but his absence only seemed to increase the number of bitter looks Catherine shot at Bash. In his childlike ignorance, he had told himself repeatedly that Catherine was always glaring at a point behind his head, not him. Now, unfortunately, that was near to impossible. He'd always been somewhat able to ignore the fact that he never quite fit in anywhere. Whilst he had a good relationship with his mother, Diane, she busied herself in her work, and he in his art. During his weekends with Henry, the coldness of Catherine's presence was usually enough to cancel out any warmth from his father or Francis. He didn't envy or harbor many resentments of his brother; quite the opposite, Bash enjoyed what time he could spend with his brother. Nevertheless, leaving home for University had been a blessing. It was comforting to Bash that he could simply slip into the crowd- no one would ask what he was doing, why he was there, who his family was.

The increasingly exasperated tones of his father and Catherine pulled Bash from his thoughts.

"God, what's next, soon you'll be inviting him along to political events, too. I thought we'd talked about this?" her voice was full of bitter resentment.

"You have no right to tell me what to do" Henry hissed, "no_ right_"

God, Bash wished the floor would just swallow him up.

"I am your wife"

"And I'd rather that were changed than Sebastian was removed from our lives"

Silence.

Catherine de Medici, in all her cold-hearted splendor, was completely silent. Bash thought he'd be able to hear a paper clip drop from the other side of the house, it was so quiet. He could have cut the tension in the next room with a knife.

But he didn't have to. Henry, Catherine and Bash were interrupted by the turning of the front door and the arrival of Francis.

* * *

The table had been prepared with candles and a basket of fresh fruit as a center piece. As Bash and the others were seated together, Francis led his fiancée in to the dining room. When Bash saw her he almost choked on his salmon, which he hadn't even meant to start eating. She had beautiful large, dark eyes and skin so fair it reminded Bash of the reflection of the moon in water. She was so wonderful he thought he would like nothing more than to paint her. He swallowed thickly, and fixed his gaze down at his fork instead as though it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. _What are you doing? _He chastised himself, Mary is Francis' friend. No, Girlfriend. No, _fiancée_. Good god, why were his thoughts so incoherent? Bash desperately wished he could swap places with the salmon sitting on his plate.

His attempt to remain inconspicuous, however, failed almost immediately. Francis nudged his brother's upper arm with his own elbow- gesturing for his attention.

Bash sat up quickly, awkwardly dropping his napkin in the process. He brushed his hands on his pants and inwardly groaned, he was making such a prat of himself.

Francis, however, with his good-natured ease and natural charm was all smiles.

"Bash, this is Mary. Mary, this is my brother, Sebastian"

Bash extended his hand, an awkward half-smile playing on his lips as Mary took it and shook nervously. He couldn't help but notice how small and soft the palm of her hand felt in comparison to his own, roughened by his time spent at a work bench.

"It's lovely to meet you, Sebastian"

"Bash, you can call me Bash." Why did he sound like such a fool?

"Those… those close to me call me Bash" He explained.

She smiled again, "Well then it's lovely to meet you, Bash"

He returned her infectious smile. His name sounded different coming from her lips.

"And you, Mary"

Dinner retained its usual course. After the formalities, including Henry's insistence on reading out the daily profits of Valois Enterprises, conversation turned to politics and Francis' upcoming run for the position of mayor.

"Francis, I trust the dinner with Madame Claude went well?" His father asked when the table was halfway done with the main course, and the wine was flowing plentifully.

"Yes" Francis replied- he politely brushed his mouth with his napkin, "I think it did"

"Good, that is good. And Mary, I trust you will be attending my son's public address tomorrow?"

The dinner table quieted at Henry's words, and even Bash turned to the girl at Francis' side.

If Mary looked flustered, it was for the briefest moment. She set down her own napkin, and smiled politely at her future father-in-law.

"Yes, I'd like to. I'd like to show my support for him, I think that would be a wonderful idea."

Both Henry and Francis seemed relatively pleased with her response. Catherine, unsurprisingly, wore her usual expression that was somewhere between indifference and agitation. Bash somehow caught Mary's eye, and offered her a small smile, which she returned kindly.

"You attended public events with your father, I trust?" Catherine de Medici questioned from across the table.

"Yes, my mother and I were were frequently in the public eye" Mary responded, although Bash noticed she looked considerably more uncomfortable than before.

"And, how is your father doing now?"

"_Catherine_" Henry murmured; Bash failed to miss the cold glare look he sent his wife. Bash cared little for political matters, but the expression Mary wore concerned him.

"No, it's alright" Mary insisted, "I understand why you have questions. But he's doing fine, thank you for asking"

"I see"

* * *

Several hours had passed, and more than enough time had been spent in Catherine's company for one night. Excusing himself from the table, Bash found himself walking side by side with his brother's fiancee.

They stopped together in the dimly light hallway, and Mary turned to face him.

"It was nice to meet you Seb- sorry, Bash" She corrected herself with a polite smile.

"Don't apologize."

She turned to leave, to follow Francis upstairs.

"Mary, wait" Bash extended his arm, his fingertips lightly brushing against the thin sleeve of her blouse. Embarrassed, he retracted it quickly as she faced him.

"Is everything alright, Bash?" God she sounded so concerned he could have kissed her right there and then.

_Francis is your brother, _he reminded himself.

"Of course it is. I just wanted to congratulate you on doing so well tonight. Heaven knows it isn't easy to spend several minutes with my father and Catherine, let alone a whole dinner."

Mary looked almost slightly flustered, and laughed softly.

"Thank you, Bash" She smiled again- he wished she would stop doing that. "I'll see you soon"

She retreated up the stairs, her small frame making her movements remarkably elegant. And Bash was left standing in the hallway, a large part of him extremely glad he decided to pass on a night of work for university. Another more muffled part of him gave a swift reminder that Mary Stuart was here because of Francis, and no one else.

_Pull yourself together, _Bash thought.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **I'm not entirely sure how to feel about this chapter, but I was inspired to upload after watching 1.11. What did you guys think of the episode? There are so many story lines going on at the moment, I'm not sure what to make of it all! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and hearing from Bash's perspective. I realize that in actuality Francis is younger than Bash, but in this story I thought I'd make Bash the younger sibling. I apologize that this chapter was relatively inner-thoughts rather than dialogue, let me know if you have any advice or feedback. thank you for reading!_


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